Fox's Glade i'm sippin' on my syrup, movin' slow, but i'm still rushin

"Of course,," he answered swiftly with a genuine smile. It was in his nature to treat most anyone as a friend, and he certainly felt that his pack members were more than that, were family. As did Harlyn, perhaps more so than anyone. She had never spoken of her followers as anything less. "Not by blood," he clarified.

He bobbed his head to her second comment. "It is spiffy," he grinned like a fool, his ears wiggling with the jest. "We are young, and there've been no problems so far." That was not to say there never would be; it was inevitable, it was part of life, and certainly part of a bunch of wanderers coming together to form a unit.

"We'd love to have you, but there's no pressure if you need time. Feel free to stop by the borders anytime and give me a shout if you think you'd like to join us."